Starring: James Cromwell and the voices of Christine Cavanaugh, Miriam Margoyles and Hugo Weaving
Directed by: Chris Noonan
It's one helluva hurdle to jump - paying good money to watch a movie about a talking pig. Nevertheless, jump it you must in order to see one of the greatest films of '95, and one of the best crafted you will see anywhere.
Babe is a young piglet won at a country fair by a farmer of few words (Cromwell). His wife is delighted and begins planning christmas dinner, but a strange bond has formed between Babe and his boss. For Babe is no ordinary pig - his vocabulary and manners are well beyond his years - and Fly the sheepdog has taken him under her paw. Seeking more out of life, the pig soon begins to learn the art of shepherding, but is he yet safe from the bosses wife popping an apple in his mouth?
OK, the plot doesn't sound so great, but give it a go. Antipodean's Chris Noonan and Producer George Miller (of Mad Max fame) have brought the chidren's story to life brilliantly, using vivid colours and splendid locations. But it's the performances by humans and animals that are outstanding, and it really is a hard-hearted monster who doesn't warm to the hero. The pig, dogs, horses, geese, cats and others speak so convincingly you forget that it ain't real chaps, with a combination of state of the art animatronics and now ubiquitous computer graphics. Babe is proof that technology need not serve only the Terminator II's of this world, but can help tell a story that seems a million miles away from graphic workstations and laser scanners.
There are a few lapses in taste - three "pinky and perky" style mice quickly outstay their welcome - but like the Wallace and Gromit classics, it nevertheless remains one of those very rare and wonderful films which genuinely crosses the generation barriers. And it's a delightful irony that the Babe in this has far more humanity than any of those in Baywatch.
Starring: Julia Roberts, Dermot Mulroney, Cameron Diaz & Rupert Everett
Directed by: PJ Hogan
From Muriel's Wedding to this, director Hogan appears to have a bit of a downer on life in general, and marriage in particular. Throwing out the age old advice that your central characters must be likeable, we have here queen bitch vengeful Roberts trying to break up her - oh yeah - best friend's (Mulroney) wedding. Complete dork Mulroney thus unknowingly and implausibly finds himself on the recieving end of two gorgeous women's attentions, for rich kid Diaz is his intended.
It's hard not to intensely dislike both Roberts and Mulroney, but in contrast Robert's gay other-best-mate (Everett) is funny when he gets half a chance and Diaz is both beautiful and, against type in these things, utterly charming. Director Hogan is clearly keen on tweeking convention, and by the end he damn near pulls it off. Trouble is, it's been such hard work getting there, it's too little too late.
A couple of scenes with the supporting cast stand out, though. One excrutiating one is when poor karaoke-hating Diaz is forced to sing "I just don't know what to do" in a packed bar. Diaz manages to make possibly the worst vocal performance in movie history something to make a grown man melt. Damn, she is good.
The Big Lebowski **** (Short Review)
Starring Jeff Bridges, John Goodman & Steve Buscemi
Directed by Ethan Coen
Ye olde mistaken identity caper done Coen style, with rugs, painted toenails and naked bungee jumping painters to keep us all amused. The usual suspects in cast and crew, and it's more or less up to standard with The Dude (Bridges) as a likeable, laid back anti-hero and Goodman as a seriously whacked out sidekick. Not their finest hour, but it features a good deal of laughs - and a smattering of nasty violence, which is good or bad depending on your taste.
The Birdcage (Short Review) **
Starring: Robin Williams, Nathan Lane, Gene Hackman & Dianne Wiest
Directed by: Mike Nicholls
Remake of La Cage Aux Folles becomes over-extended sitcom, with first hour reliant on irritataing - as opposed to funny - hyper-camp Lane. Film only splutters to life in contrived but effective final half hour and, like Mrs Doubtfire only more so, is none too successful at narrative and serious aspirations.
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Burt Reynolds, Julianne Moore, & William H Macy
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson
This attempts to be Goodfellas with porn, and at times it almost succeds. Starting with one of those bravura 5 minute steadicam shots which takes in the whole world, we chance across Wahlberg, a young wannabe working in a San Fernando club in 1977. There he meets Reynolds, a director of "exotic" films, who takes him under his lens for the basic reason that, although barely out of adolescence girls, his manhood is very much all man.
I bet you thought the porn industry would be a rather tragic and seedy affair, didn't you? Hell no - for a while things are just peachy, with everyone so nice to each other and happy in their work they almost look like they're on a religious crusade. And their mission? To make a porn film that people would actually want to see through to the end. However, both success and video start to undermine the happy family values.
It's here that the film really starts to falter. Rather than the narrative bringing the now increasingly violent and shocking events to a head (as it were), it flies them off in every direction, leaving loose ends dangling all over the place. Long meandering scenes seem to go nowhere, and before long you begin to wonder what the point is, exactly.
On the plus side, the performances are brave and strong (Reynold's re-inventing himself with much success), and the in-your-face direction from Anderson, while occasionally distracting, is often very slick, clever and colourful. Unfortunatly, it is with his scriptwriter's hat on that he is less impressive.
This certainly remains a curiosity - with porn grossing more than mainstream film and music put together, it's a side of Hollywood that many would rather forget but is very much there. Yet this film fails to generate any sense of the power and menace of the industry, as if the Reynolds happy family were the entire scene. Is all really fair in lust and war?
Starring: Jennifer Tilly, Gina Gershon & Joe Pantoliano
Directed by: The Wachowski Brothers
It's a routine thriller, but a good one, involving the mafia, people on the make, double crosses, deception and a suitcase of 2 million bucks. But there's an ah-ha coming - ah-ha! The inevitable femme fatale seduces not the hunky patsy in order to stitch him up like a kipper, but rather - and brace yourselves - falls straight into the willing legs of her odd-job female neighbour.
For this reason alone it'll be a solid renter down the local, but the good news is that we have a very nicely crafted bit of film noir indeed, owing just a teensy bit of gratitude to John Dahl and the Coen brothers for recent inspiration. Just about all rocks-off kissing and shagging is out of the way in the first half hour, and then we get on with the serious business of ripping off the mafia. The latter half revolves round the increasingly frought events of one long night, and has tension to chew on and some great shocks and laughs to boot. But be warned, this isn't an 18 just for the sex. When the sacceteurs come out, dive for the cushion if you're squeamish...
This may even have been a great film, but sadly letting the whole side down is Jennifer Tilly, whose squeaky and raspy tones work in some roles, but sadly not in the scheming lesbian temptress ones. However lover-girl Gershon is fine, and Tilly's nasty man Pantoliano shows us what an ace actor he is these days.
Something of a Hollywood first, this is an ordinary mainstream thriller whose lovers happen to be lesbians. But reflect, if you will, how financially successful Bound would have been with two male lovers playing the leads...
Starring: Pete Postlethwaite, Stephen Tompkinson, Ewan MacGegor & Tara Fitzgerald
Directed by: Mark Herman
Ten years after the '84 miner's strike, things are still not right in the Coal industry. Even the profitable pits are earmarked for closure, including one which is home of a really rather fine and long-running brass band. Under Postlethwaite's steady hand and the flugelhorn playing lips of new arival Fitzgerald, the fortunes of band and colliery are destined to be set against each other during the national championships.
It's very good natured and includes the required charm, but also does not shirk from the gritty existance of a community whose very survival depends on the soon-to-be-gone black stuff. Unfortunately, writer / director Hermon can't resist the temptation to grind the old political axe where it simply isn't necessary - the story tells well enough on its own.
Postlethwaite and Tompkinson (you know, that nice vicar from Ballykissangel) are excellent, while the Ewan / Tara double act seems far less well developed - McGregor in particular is given little to do other than stand around with his hands in his pockets looking cross. Nevertheless, it's another small reminder that these days, for a hundreth of the budget, we can still pack a more entertaining 90 minutes than the average Hollywood "drama". Play on.
Starring Kurt Russell, JT Walsh and Kathleen Quinlan
Directed by Jonathon Mostow
Yuppies-on-the-move breakdown in the high desert, and before you know it, Kurt's wife is missing and all hell is about to break loose. Superb Red Rock West feel (aided by the presence of the late great JT Walsh and a fabulous music score), mostly believable plotting and a short running time make for a cracking thriller, although it eventually can't resist the temptation to push it too far. Still, destined to become a small-time classic.
Starring: Christian Slater, John Travolta and Samantha Mathis
Directed by: John Woo
Apparently, all you need to do to get your very own thermonuclear warhead is pop over to one of the former Soviet republics and hand over a dozen Levis and a bottle of Coke. Not much filmic milage there then, so why not total a two billion dollar stealth bomber over scenic Canyonlands National Park in Utah instead?
Ah ha! Yes sir, Commander Deakins (Travolta) is a very bad boy indeed, but crucially fails to kill his co-pilot Hale (Slater). Before you can say Speed, Hale has fallen into the Jeep of the gutsy local Park Ranger (Mathis), who can throw grenades, shoot guns and take out helicopters with the best of 'em. As the officials back at base and the White House try to piece together exactly what is going on, Deakins and his maelevolent cronies are getting set to turn the Southwest into a quiet neighbourhood "for the next hundred thousand years". Unless, that is, they get - wait for it - The Money.
So, from the author of Speed and the director of all those hyper-violent Hong Kong movies that Tarantino is so fond of, this is loud and proud in a James Bond sort of way. Together, they let their characters push all the right buttons, with almost no potential for hair-raising escapade left unfilmed. The effects very from OK to quite marvellous, the bomber looks dead cool and the pace is nicely up there, thank you. Meanwhile, Travolta still rides high as the cool bad guy, and Slater and Mathis - reteamed after the splendid Pump Up The Volume in the eighties - are a perfectly competant heroic duo.
Perhaps lacking the claustrophobic intensity that made Speed so laughably watchable, this nevertheless provides an enjoyable two hours to help the popcorn go down. And if you've forgotten everything else the moment the house lights go up, this may at least give you an idea of where to spend the next hols.
Starring Jack Mulchay, Edward Burns and Mike McGlone
Directed by Edward Burns
Low budget independant movies have the odds stacked against them in almost every regard, so when one is picked up by a major studio - 20th Century Fox - you can expect something a bit special. Expect all you like, but with the best will in the world, there is very little that is special about The Brothers McMullen.
The siblings of the title are three Irishmen raised in New York. One is happily married to a beautiful wife, another is trapped in a one-sided relationship with a doting Jew and the third is out to get laid as often as possible. Various incidents and interactions put the inevitable strain on family relations, as each tries to come to terms with being both a Catholic and a red blooded male.
Even though it's heart is in the right place, it's all been covered before. You may excuse the dodgy camerawork, microphone shadows and editing, but it's harder to make concessions for a haphazrdly structured script with some truly dreadful lines and a couple of performances, notably from the adulterous famme fatale, which leave just about everything to be desired. Be prepared for some unintentional laughs.
To even the scores a little, the brothers are fine, the wife is excellent, and there are one or two choice observations about the old guilt and sex chestnut. Overall however, if blame has to be laid somewhere, it falls mainly on the shoulders of the producer/director Burns. With the odds so against you, it needs a very strong talent to take your limitations and make them work for you.
This will appeal to those who champion low budgeters as somehow having more talent and integrity than the majors. However, it reveals that in the harsh and cold light of day, those people's opinion can be every bit as blinkered as those of the big-time producers.
All reviews / articles copyright Guy Rowland (1998).